Of Distraction and Crippling by Killer Bookselves
by dress without sleeves
Summary: Harry never expected to find anything other than dirty cauldrons when he gets a Saturday detention. And he certainly didn't expect to find himself getting very, very distracted by one Ginny Weasley...
1. Harry's POV

**Author's Note: I've been reading a lot of these little ficlits lately...only about three chapters long, but everything someone could want in a story. So I've set out to write one! Go me! Wahoo!**

**You can laugh once it's over, but _only_ once it's over. Until then, you have to be nice and say, "Gee, Molly, it's a good thing that you're trying new styles. I'm sure you'll get better as time goes on." And then, once it's done, I invite you to laugh and point and mock me while chanting, "Hah! Hah! You suck! You suck, you suck, you suck!"**

**:P All right, well, now that that's settled...**

I blame Snape.

I know what you're thinking: _Of course you do. Just throw all of the blame onto the slimy git's shoulders; what's it to you if he's innocent?_ But I'm telling you, it's his fault. If he hadn't given me detention last Saturday, if he hadn't made the detention at five o'clock - sharp - and if he hadn't made the detention in the Great Hall, as opposed to in the dungeons like usual, none of this would have happened.

If I had been the in dungeons, I wouldn't have seen Ginny Weasley holding hands and laughing over a cup of hot chocolate with Dean Thomas in the Great Hall. And if I hadn't seen that, then I wouldn't have felt that weird little twinge.

No, it wasn't jealousy.

Really.

It wasn't.

I was just looking out for her, is all, and that little twinge simply meant, 'Oh, look, my honorary sister is growing up.'

That's all.

I swear.

So anyway, I went and sat at the table and waited for Snape to come and tell me exactly _what_ my detention was. And come he did, handed me a mop and a bucket of water, and ordered me to clean the entire floor of the Great Hall.

I still could have been out of there before anything major happened if he didn't have to add, "It's almost a bittersweer feeling, seeing you do this, Potter. I would have so _loved_ to have done it to your father."

And, as we all know, I don't take snide comments about my diseased parents well. "Oh, shove off, you great ugly git," I snapped, before realizing what I was saying.

Snape paled even more than usual.

Despite myself, I was impressed.

And I knew then that I was in big, big trouble. Hermione was going to blow a fuse - Head Boy's did not talk back to professors, they did not lose House points, and they _certainly_ didn't get Saturday detentions.

I wasn't particularly worried about Snape - he couldn't dish out anything new. Two hundred thousand million points from Gryffindor, a year's detention, fail me out of the class...

Not anything to worry about.

No, no. It was Hermione that I was afraid of at this point.

"Potter, how _dare_ you address me that way!" Snape shrieked, his voice unusually high-pitched. Sweat dripped from his hairline and he shook - literally - with anger. "Y - You - one hundred - and fifty points - Gryffindor!" He roared. "D - Detention! DETENTION FOR THE REST OF THE YEAR!"

I crossed my arms coolly. I could almost recite his threats. "You - you're just like your father - arrogant and - and - "

I ignored him and mopped the floor as he ranted.

And then, Snape sunk to an all-time low.

He brought in Malfoy.

Stormed out, and ten minutes later (I was doing my best to ignore Ginny and Dean's excited talk about the incident) came back in, dragging Malfoy. "Potter, you may not respond in any way to Mr. Malfoy!" He said gleefully. "Or - Expulsion!"

Now, I'm not really sure if that was a valid threat, but I certainly didn't want to risk it. So Malfoy watched me for a moment, seemingly perplexed with the situation until he said, "Wait - so - I can say whatever I want?"

Snape hastened to assure him that yes, he could, and exited the room.

Malfoy had a field day.

Pathetic.

First he started on me. Now, insults in my direction I can handle. I've had a fair few in my lifetime. Then he started on Hermione, and I bristled, tightening my grip on the mop. I stopped cleaning and glared at him, but said nothing.

Then he began on Ron.

The sick prat was enjoying it.

I threw the mop down and tightened my fist into balls, but said nothing. he said all sorts of horrible things about Mr. and Mrs. Weasley (I really was shaking out of anger at that point) and finally, Ginny.

She ignored him, instead focusing intently on me.

And then he decided to go in for the kill.

"Do you miss Black?" He asked abruptly. "I mean, I know you killed him, but do you regret it? Because, it's your fault, you know. You as good as did him in. You _did_ do him in. And I was just wondering what it felt like to kill a family member. Same goes for Diggory, although he wasn't really your family. Just decided to get an innocent bystander, did you? Shame, really - broke Chang's heart."

He paused thoughtfully. "So who's next, Potter? Weasley? Granger? Weaselette?" I bit my lip so hard it bled and my nails were digging into my fists and making little cuts.

Remaining in Hogwarts couldn't be worth this.

"It just seems that everyone around you dies, doesn't it? The werewolf, maybe? You seem particularly close to him...or how about the fat Weasley woman? She's cared for you, I gather, loved you like a son - the idiot woman - so I imagine you'll get her next, right?"

That was it. Screw Hogwarts - I whipped out my wand and was a millisecond away from cursing him into oblivion when I realised that Ginny had beat me to it.

He had warts, tentacles, jelly-legs, no wand, and was stunned.

I admired the work. "Admirably done, Ginny," I complimented, although still furious.

But it's not fair to be angry at people that aren't involved in the situation.

And besides, I wanted to let Thomas know that _I_ was her friend and that _I'd_ had her first.

I mean...what?

"Thank you," she said primly. "I only beat you by a little." She paused, frowning at me. "And you're lucky I did, too, you silly git. You would have gotten expelled! Honestly!"

She has been spending entirely too much time around Hermione. I've got to save her before it's too late.

Thomas looked between she and I and then asked timidly - "Ginny... would...would you like to get back to eating now?"

The git! It was an important moment! And he interrupted it!

So. Ginny shrugged and I went back to mopping.

I really began to hate Dean at that moment.

The speed at which she had cursed Malfoy! It was like nothing I've ever seen. It was really strange, but I began to see Ginny in a new light... a light in which was favourable in some aspects, because at least I learned the little things about her - like never get on her bad side, she eats like a sumo wrestler and doesn't gain a pound, her pet peeve is when one-half of a collar is turned up and one down - but less favourable in the respect that I found myself doing slightly stupid things.

Like putting my elbow in the butter dish when she sat next to me at lunch. Or walking into doors. Or hitting my head on things. Or stubbing my toe, flubbing spells, choking, blushing, staring, getting rendered speechless, missing the Snitch, falling off my broom...

Horrendous.

She's an enigma, though. She'll dash down to breakfast in the morning, her hands ink-stained, her hair tied up in a hasty bun, flash me a smile and then dissapear. Her tie is sloppy and hanging, little strands of hair hang down over her eyes.

Ah. And so I have come to the eyes.

God_damn._

They're wide and trusting, or narrowed and fiery, or sparkling with mischief...beautiful, beautiful eyes.

She captivates me.

So anyway, I blame Snape. Because if he hadn't given me that detention, I would have never seen her in this new light, and therefore I would not be sitting in this blasted hospital wing with a massive headache.

Poor Madam Pomphry. She got me my own bed, you know. Made a plaque that said 'Harry Potter's Bed' and magically adhered it to the one I'm in.

Merlin love the woman.

But anyway. The reason I have this migraine would be because I was in Defense Against the Dark Arts when she came in to give Professor Tonks (Gods, but it feels weird to say that, even now) a message from McGonagall. Tonks and I were duelling in a friendly sort of way, just to exersize, when she came in, and Tonks stumbled.

She knocked into the bookshelf, which tilted right at Ginny.

She stared as it came down towards her head. Not really thinking, I shoved her out of the way.

Only, I tripped on a desk because her lips - all shiny and full, opened slightly in shock - distracted me.

And so I got the bookshelf corner, right in my forehead.

Yeah. Ouch.

But you know, it's funny. I don't regret getting bashed by the damn thing at all, because Ginny didn't. I don't think I'd manage to keep breathing if something happened to her. If she weren't at my -

Oh dear Merlin.

Will you listen to me?

Damn you, Snape! Damn you, damn you, damn you!

Everything was much, much easier before all of this nonsense.

Do you _hear_ what I'm saying? All poetic and cutesie when she doesn't even know that I fancy the freckles off her. Can you say 'Pathetic loser'?

I can.

Pathetic loser.

That's me.

Over here - no, no, be_hind_ the flowers.

This is all hideously embarrassing. First I make a fool of myself by tripping and getting my arse kicked by an inanimate object, and then all these little midgets come in, blushing and stuttering, to bring me flowers and candy and get-well cards.

I have, as of yet, managed to stay civil and say, "Thanks very much."

_She_ hasn't come around yet, though. I asked Ron how she was and he burst out laughing, the git. Wouldn't tell me why. Same reaction with Hermione, except she patted my arm and said in a very comforting voice that lips were very distracting things.

Now, I ask you - _how did she know about that?_

Anyway, Madam Pomphry is letting someone in now.

Ah, I'd know that beautiful head of hair anywhere.

Now, if I focus very carefully, I can make myself not blush and if I just don't move, I won't get hurt. That's the plan.

"Hullo, Harry," she chirps, and plops down on a stool beside me. "How's your head?"

"Oh, brilliant," I mutter sarcastically. "The dent isn't _too_ large."

She winces. "Right - sorry about that - my quick reflexes only show themselves on the Quidditch pitch, you know..." She frowns. "Although, you didn't have to _throw_ yourself in the way. Pushing me out of the line of fire was sufficiant."

I blush but maintain my cool. "I didn't," I sigh, raking my hands through my hair. "I tripped. Trust me, if I could have avoided me attacked by a wooden box, I would have."

So far so good. As long as I don't make any large movements, I should be fine.

Ginny furrows her brow. "Yeah, I've noticed you've been a bit of a klutz lately."

She noticed me?

She _noticed_ me?

It's worth the pain. It's worth the headache.

She noticed me! _Me_! Harry Potter!

Life is good.

Ish. Life is good-ish.

My head still hurts, you see.

"Have I?" I ask, delighted. "Can't imagine why."

She frowns again. "Are you feeling all right?" She pauses, and then - "Oh, _Harry_!" I raise my eyebrows in surprise. "You fancy someone!"

Good feeling gone.

Right down the drain.

Along with the colour in my face.

"S-Sorry?" I squeak.

She smiles benevolently. "It's obvious, Harry...the tripping, the blushing, the klutziness...you put your elbow in the butterdish yesterday..."

Damn. I didn't know she knew about that.

"So?" She asks excitedly, "Who is it?"

I blush madly and avoid her gaze. "How has Thomas been?" I ask instead, hedging the question. "Er - that is to say - How is Dean?"

She cocks her head, confused. "He's your yearmate, Harry," she says, sounding perlexed. "You're in most of his classes."

I shrug. "Yeah, but we're not close like you two."

"I should hope not!" She snorts, and then laughs pleasently. "Actually, Dean and I broke up."

You know, I am a master of self control. If I wasn't, I would not have been able to stop the 'Hallelujah!' that would have chorused out of me and the huge, idiotic smile that would have formed on my face.

All the same, I can not bring myself to look sorry. "Oh, that's too bad," I say, trying to sound sympathetic. "You must feel - er - badly."

She raises her eyebrows and laughs. "You don't do the after-breakup peptalk often, do you?" She asks. I flush and shake my head. Ginny sighs in exasperation, but a smile tugs at her mouth. "Well, I did at first, but then I realized that I don't even really fancy Dean."

Glee.

Just glee.

"Oh?" I squeak, my voice higher pitched than usual. "Why'd you go out with him, then?"

"It's called a distraction," she says with a shrug. "You see, I was trying to get over this other bloke that I'm madly in love with, but he's too thick to see it."

I nod, feeling really put out that she likes another bloke. The agony on my face - which I assume she took for sympathy - was real. "Aw, I'm sorry, Ginny," I say consolingly. "Anyone would be a stupid idiot for not seeing that sort of thing. A bloke would be lucky to have you."

Another strange smile tugs at her lips. "Yes," she agrees. "Yes, he would be stupid."

We sit in silence for a minute, and then, "Ginny?" She looks up with a small 'Hm?' "Who is he? The guy you like, I mean."

She passes a hand over her mouth, as though concealing a smile. "Oh, you know him," she confesses. "You know him very well. He's a good friend of yours, actually."

My mouth drops open. "Dear Merlin - you fancy _Neville_?"

She chokes on her own spit and then bursts out laughing. "No, you prat!" She smirks, shaking her head. "Not that there is anything wrong with Neville, but Luna would have my head if I went after him. No, no, it's someone else."

I frown. "Why can't you just tell me?"

"This is more fun."

Women. Yeesh.

"Uh-_huh._" We lapse into silence and I think. "Seamus, then?" She shakes her head once more. "Ginny, I don't know very many people that well. And all my roomates have been listed, with the exception of Ron, and I'm assuming you and he don't - well - unless there's something I should know..."

Eeeeeeeeeeewwwwwwwwwwwwww.

"No!" She bursts out fervently, shaking her head.

Aaahh...pretty hair...

Stop staring, Harry.

Stop it.

Right now.

Not kidding, she'll notice soon.

Damn. Too late.

"Right," I squeak. "Right - well - someone younger then..."

She shakes her head, frowning. "No, not younger." She smiles. "Not older, either."

"So he's in a different House?"

She stares at me for a moment, then flings her hands into the air in exasperation. "Harry, you are a thick, thick prat, you know that?"

I blink. "Er - sorry?"

"You haven't listed someone in your year."

Yes I have!

Seamus, Dean, Ron, Neville!

Who else, besides me?

No one, that's who.

And she _obviously_ doesn't like me anymore.

Damn it, why didn't I see her in this strange light when I had the chance?

Ah, well.

As I was saying, she obviously doesn't like me. She couldn't. It's unthinkable. It's ludacris. I mean, what do _I_ have to offer?

Sure, a vault full of money - but Ginny's not like that - and the whole 'I-Conquered-The-Dark-Lord' thing - but Ginny's not impressed by that, either, she knows me to well - and the fact that no matter where I apply, if I ask to be a Potions professor when I clearly know nothing about the subject, I'll get the job.

But Ginny isn't in to that sort of thing either.

So, basically, unless she's into guys at beat themselves up everytime she is within a continent of the vicinity, I've got nothing.

"Can't think of anyone that I missed," I say, bemused. "So it must be another House. Ravenclaw? Hufflepuff? Oh - please don't say Slytherin."

She blinks at me like I'm the most stupid idiot in the world. "What?" I snap.

She sighs. "Okay, I'll give you a hint," she finally caves, exasperated. "His first name starts with an 'H' and ends with 'Arry', and his last name starts with 'Po' and ends with 'Tter'."

H - Arry

Po -Tter.

Harry?

Potter?

Harry Potter?

As in, me?

"Harry Potter?" I choke out, my eyes wide. "As in - _the_ Harry Potter?"

She smiles, amused. "Why, yes._ That_ Harry Potter. Have you heard of him?"

Through my euphoria, I manage, "Once or twice."

We sit in silence for the third time, my mind reeling.

Hey.

Guess what.

Ginny Weasley?

Yeah, she likes me.

_Me._

'Madly in love', as she put it. Ginny Weasley, the girl that I've been obbsessing over for the past week, is in love with me.

Life is good.

Screw the headache, life is _great_! It's wonderful! It's perfect! It's ...

Hey. Hey! Where is she going?

"Ginny? Ginny! Where are you going?"

She turns back, frowning. "Well, you didn't say anything, so I assumed you don't really care that I'm in love with you, and therefore I decided to leave and save the last, minute thread of my dignity. Why?"

_What_?!

"You think I - I _don't care_?" I ask, my mouth dropping down to the bedcovers. "Are you _mad_?"

Her frown deepens and she looks away. "I guess so, because only a madwoman would think that you would actually return - "

Am _I_ this clueless?

"Ginny, I've been tripping over myself and putting my elbow in butter dishes around you for a week. Or have you not noticed?"

Her eyes fly to mine. "Wait - what - what do you mean?"

It's odd, but her sudden lack of confidence seems to have boosted me up to where I need to be in order to do this right.

Oh, thank Merlin.

"Oh, just that I have been obbsessing over you for weeks now." So I exaggerated. Sue me. "It's weird, but I just - started noticing the little things about you - like the way your hair catches the sunlight, and how your eyes widen when your surprised and a smile tugs at your lips and..." I trail off, blushing like crazy.

She grins. "And?"

"...And - well - I mean, obviously I - er - _liked_ those things..."

Time to curl up and die now.

She laughs, turns back, and leaps onto the hospital wing bed, throwing her arms around my neck. "Oh, but you didn't _say_ anything and I thought Hermione must have been wrong about you liking me and - oh! It would have been horrible, to think that I'd broken it off with Dean for nothing." I grin broadly at her.

"Truly tragic," I lament, slipping my arms around her waist. She nods solemnly.

"Broke the poor blokes heart, I imagine."

I smirk. "Well, too bad for him, you're mine now."

And then - and thank Gods she took the innitiative, I'm too happy to even think about it (okay, that's a lie, but don't tell Ron) - she covers my lips with her own.

Her tongue darts out and carresses my lower lip. I groan.

I love her more every moment.

I struggle to maintain a train of thought as she kisses me, trying to think of a word that describes her.

Ginger?

Nah, too cliche.

Weasley?

Well, yes, but...it's not quite right.

Chaser?

...Yeah. Perfect. My Chaser.

Finally, when the need for air becomes desperate, she pulls away.

She rolls off of me and lies quietly by my side until - "You know, no one has ever jumped in front of a bookself for me before."

I am about to correct her and tell her that I didn't _actually _jump in front of it, but realize that I might as well milk the situation for all it's worth.

"I guess I'm the first bloke that's not family to love you enough to jump in front of something so terrible and risk my very life for you."

She laughs.

She has a very nice laugh.

"Would you jump in front of a rebel magnolia if I asked you?"

I grin. "If you asked me to, then yes. I would jump in front of a rebel magnolia."

"The one with lots of vines and petals falling off?"

"Yep."

She smiles at me, and I find it rather hard to think with her face so very close, barely brushing mine.

"My hero," she breathes before capturing my mouth with hers.

I smile against her lips.


	2. Ginny's POV

A/N: Okay, the second and final installment of this story. Ish. Thing.

Yay!

I love Harry and Ginny. Really I do. They were made for one another.

And now I am going to do what I have never done before. I am going to add. . . A DISCLAIMER! -cue music-

**Disclaimer**: Because I do not have a daughter, do not live in a scottish castle, and don't have that funny little accent she does, I think it is safe to assume that I am not J.K.Rowling and, as such, do not own Harry Potter.

But damn, I wish I did. Because if I owned Harry Potter, I would BRING BACK SIRIUS BLACK! In fact, I would never have killed him in the first place! And Voldemort would never have come back and Harry would have lived a happy, perfect life and he would have died in his sleep at age 85! And - well, that's it, actually.

And I might bring the Longbottoms back, maybe. And other stuff.

Yeah. So.

Let's just get on with the story, shall we?

**Chapter 2 - Ginny POV**

Dean was a sweetheart, really. Always holding my hand and kissing my cheek - really chaste, you know? A darling. Shyly asking if I might join him in the Great Hall for lunch, etc.

I usually said yes - I mean, he _was_ my boyfriend and I _do_ love spending time with him. And so it was that I agreed to have a late lunch with him in the Great Hall last Saturday.

Everything started out fine. We sat down and started to eat, gabbing over the chicken and garlic sauce, drinking pumpkin juice, that whole shebang.

And then Harry came in.

Apparently, he had detention with Snape. (Git.)

Anyhoo, Harry came in, blushed at the sight of Dean and I, and quickly took a seat. He focused his attention on the far wall to give us some sort of illusion of privacy, but every once in a while I would catch him shooting us glances. (Not that I was looking, of course.) Then Snape swept through the doors in all his greasy glory, handed Harry a mop, and ordered him to mop the entire floor without magic.

_Honestly_ - how uninventive.

"It's almost a bittersweer feeling, seeing you do this, Potter. I would have so _loved_ to have done it to your father," Snape sneered as Harry dipped the mop into the bucket of water.

Harry stiffened and spat, "Oh, shove off, you great ugly git."

I was so proud. My heart swelled and I mentally screamed -_ 'Atta boy, Harry! You tell him!_

Dean looked the same.

As I said - a darling.

Snape went all albino on us, though, and I thought he was going to explode. (Thank Merlin he didn't!) It didn't help that Harry looked totally blase about the whole situation, and Dean and I were snickering into our goblets.

"Potter, how _dare_ you address me that way!" Snape shrieked, his voice unusually high-pitched. Sweat dripped from his hairline and he shook - literally - with anger. "Y - You - one hundred - and fifty points - Gryffindor!" He roared. "D - Detention! DETENTION FOR THE REST OF THE YEAR!"

Harry crossed his arms coolly over his chest, looking unperturbed. "You - you're just like your father - arrogant and - and - "

Everyone was ignoring him, and I think it just made him worse. So bad, in fact, that he brought out his last, most pathetic, resort: Malfoy.

Stupid sodding idiot brought in the whiny seventh year and ordered him to say anything - everything insulting - to Harry, because Harry was not allowed to respond on pain of expulsion.

Needless to say, Malfoy was delighted.

"How does it feel to know that you can't act all heroic, Potter?" He sneered, his eyes alight. "Poor little Potter. No tabloids, no signed photos...you must be awfully lonely without your little _fan club._ All for a stupid mistake when you were a runt! You probably fancy yourself a hero, probably think you're special just because the Dark Lord made a foolish error..."

Harry didn't react.

I made a mental note to buy him something from Hogsmeade.

"What about your little side-kick, Weasley? You know he's jealous of you, right? Hates all of the attention you get, wishes he had half of it... I'll bet he just sticks with you because he thinks some of the fame will rub off on him! And no wonder - after all, his family lives in a _shack._"

Dean and I watched with interest as Harry stiffed and his knuckles tightened on the mop's handle.

"And your little Mudblood...tell me, do you and Weasley share the spoils?"

I felt _myself_ starting to get angry. Dean squeezed my hand.

"And those two fat oafs that call themselves purebloods... that fat, ugly woman - yes, my father said when she was in school she was worth something, but Weasley senior ruined her...my father says she's a vixen in the sack."

Ew. Ew, ew, ew.

He turned to me, delighted. "Ah, the Weaselette!" He sneered. "Still pining after Potter, then? Do you _love_ him? Don't you ever wonder what it would like to have a two-room house? Tell me - how much time do you spend on your back in order to get Potter to be friends with you? Friends with benefits - that's what it's called..."

Dean growled, but I silenced him with a glare. It wasn't his place, or mine, to interupt. I kept my eyes on Harry to see how he was. I did _not_ want him expelled. _Don't rise to it,_ I told him mentally. _Let it alone._

"Do you miss Black?" Malfoy asked abruptly. "I mean, I know you killed him, but do you regret it? Because, it's your fault, you know. You as good as did him in. You _did_ do him in. And I was just wondering what it felt like to kill a family member. Same goes for Diggory, although he wasn't really your family. Just decided to get an innocent bystander, did you? Shame, really - broke Chang's heart."

He paused thoughtfully. "So who's next, Potter? Weasley? Granger? Weaselette? It just seems that everyone around you dies, doesn't it? The werewolf, maybe? You seem particularly close to him...or how about the fat Weasley woman? She's cared for you, I gather, loved you like a son - the idiot woman - so I imagine you'll get her next, right?"

I saw what Harry was going to do before he did it - and honestly, I couldn't let him get expelled.

I drew my own wand and hexed Malfoy several times over. He was warty, had tentacles, and knocked out cold.

Good.

"Admirably done, Ginny," Harry grit out, forcing a smile. He was still seething.

Probably because he thought it was true, the stupid prat.

"Thank you. I only beat you by a little." I paused, frowning. "And you're lucky I did, too, you silly git. You would have gotten expelled! Honestly!"

Timidly, Dean tugged my hand. "Ginny... would...would you like to get back to eating now?"

I grit my teeth together. _No, I do not. I want to talk to Harry. I want to spend time with Harry. I want you to go away._

I shrugged. "Sure."

He _was_ my boyfriend, after all.

The next few weeks were completely odd. Harry kept hurting himself whenever I was nearby. And when he was physically safe, he'd blush or stutter instead. I was beginning to think that maybe Malfoy had cursed him or something.

And then it all came to a head when I was asked to deliver a message to Tonks. I opened the door slowly and watched as she and Harry dueled. (He gave her a run for her money, let me tell you!) Then, suddenly, Tonks tripped and her hex went awry. She knocked into a bookshelf, and it began tilting towards me...

I couldn't move as I watched it fall at my head. I just stood there, mouth open, waiting for the impact.

Except that it never came.

I suddenly found myself lying on the ground, perfectly safe. I looked up in surprise and let out a scream - Harry was lying flattened under the huge object, his head bleeding profusely.

I growled at everyone who came close to him and levitated his (unconcious, bleeding) body to the hospital wing. Madam Pomphry gasped - "The trouble that boy gets into! Oh, Harry! Here, set him down, gently, oh, I'll heal him up, I'm not letting go of this one..." - and went to work, ordering me away.

I snuck in later and slept under his bed so that no one would know I was there.

Dean and I broke it off after he learned about that.

Anyway, Hermione and Ron found out about it and teased me mercilessly, the gits. And during the day, I lie here underneath it and just listen to him breathe, talk, laugh, mumble an embarrassed thanks to all of those who brought him flowers (My _Merlin_, was I ever like that?!), and I realize, slowly, that if I wanted to grab him, it had to be _now._

So I decide.

I crawl out from underneath his bed while he iks asleep, exit the wing, and wait until evening to come back again. He is awake, just sitting boredly in his bed when I come in.

"Hullo, Harry!" I call, smiling and sitting beside him. "How's your head?"

He rolls his eyes. "Oh, brilliant. The dent isn't _too_ large."

Involuntairily, I grimace. "Right - sorry about that - my quick reflexes only show themselves on the Quidditch pitch, you know..." I pause thoughtfully. "Although, you didn't have to _throw_ yourself in the way. Pushing me out of the line of fire was sufficient."

"I didn't," he mumbles, running his fingers through his (adorable, messy) hair. "I tripped. Trust me, if I could have avoided being attacked by a wooden box, I would have."

Well, now is as good a time as any to ask.

"Yeah, I've noticed you've been a bit of a klutz lately."

For some reason, he seems irrationally pleased about this. Then - "Have I? Can't imagine why."

"Are you feeling all right?" I question, arching an eyebrow.

Then it all makes sense.

He's me.

Only a guy.

And older.

And more attractive.

The point is, he fancies someone!

Ouch.

Damnit!

"Harry...you fancy someone!"

He pales. "S-Sorry?"

Honestly, you'd think no one had ever said it before. I force myself to smile and look excited. "It's obvious, Harry...the tripping, the blushing, the klutziness...you put your elbow in the butterdish yesterday...so? Who is it?"

He blushes and then hedges the question. "How has Thomas been?" He reddens even furthur as I raise my eyebrows.

Thomas?

Does he mean...?

"Er - that is to say - How is Dean?"

Ah.

"He's your yearmate, Harry," I point out. "You're in most of his classes."

He swears under his breath. "Yeah, but we're not close like you two."

I can't help the smirk, or the, "I should hope not!" that comes out of my mouth. I laugh. "Actually, Dean and I broke up."

"Oh, that's too bad," he mutters in a bad impression of someone sympathetic. "You must feel - er - badly."

"You don't do the after-breakup peptalk often, do you?" I ask, grinning. "Well, I did at first, but then I realized that I don't even really fancy Dean."

Hmm. Definitely didn't mean to say that.

"Oh?" He asks, looking interested. "Why'd you go out with him, then?"

Sigh.

_Boys_. Honestly.

"It's called a distraction. You see, I was trying to get over this other bloke that I'm madly in love with, but he's too thick to see it."

Note to self: staple lips shut!

His face falls a mile, which makes no sense. "Aw, I'm sorry, Ginny," he says gently. "Anyone would be a stupid idiot for not seeing that sort of thing. A bloke would be lucky to have you."

I feel a smile tug at my lips.

Is he _this_ blind? "Yes," I agree. "Yes, he would be stupid."

As the idiot bozo that I happen to be in love with drifts off into his own demented little thoughts, I can't help but think about all the flowers and get-well cards that are littered across his bed. There's one here that says, _Dear Harry Potter, I hope you get better because you are really good looking and I fancy you. But don't talk or look at me because if you do I might start blushing and stuttering. Get well soon! Love, Natalia Whitman._

At least mine _sang._

"Ginny?"

I look up, still thinking about the card. "Hm?"

"Who is he?"

I frown. Natalia Whitman sounds a bit like a girls name to me, but maybe her - his? - parents have a sick sense of humor or something... "The guy you like, I mean."

I put my hand over my mouth so that he doesn't see my smile that is screaming - _Harry Potter's a stupid dolt! Harry Potter's a stupid dolt!_, because that would be horrible for his self-esteem. "Oh, you know him," I tease. "You know him very well. He's a good friend of yours, actually."

Harry's jaw drops and I wince inwardly. _Here we go..._ his jaw drops. "Dear Merlin - you fancy _Neville_?"

I burst out laughing. "No, you prat! Not that there is anything wrong with Neville," I add hastily, "but Luna would have my head if I went after him. No, no, it's someone else."

He scowls, pouting slightly. "Why can't you just tell me?"

"This is more fun."

"Uh-_huh._" There is a pause and I turn back to my thoughts about the get-well cards. _I fancy you..._"Seamus, then?"

I absently shake my head. _Don't talk or look at me because if you do I might start blushing and stuttering... _"Ginny, I don't know very many people that well. And all my roomates have been listed, with the exception of Ron, and I'm assuming you and he don't - well - unless there's something I should know..."

Eeeeeeeeeeewwwwwwwwwwwwww.

That is possibly the most disgusting thing I've ever heard in my entire life. Me and Ron. Ron and me. My _brother._

Eeeeeeeeeeewwwwwwwwwwwwww.

"No!" I yelp vehemently.

His eyes fall on my head and they don't leave. _I fancy you...Love, Natalia Whitman._

She's braver than I ever was. I could never write 'love, Ginny.' I think mine went something like, _his eyes are as green as a fresh-pickled toad..._

"Right. Right - well - someone younger then..."

I resist the urge to tell him that his a thick prat and deserves to be bashed into a wall for his stupidity. Repeatedly. "No, not younger. Not older, either." If that doesn't tell him, I will personally shave his head.

Don't ask.

"So he's in a different House?"

I can only gape.

Is he genuinely this stupid, or is he just trying to annoy me?

"Harry, you are a thick, thick prat, you know that?"

He blinks at me, seeming surprised. (Idiot.) "Er - sorry?"

"You haven't listed someone in your year."

He frowns in thought.

Idiot, idiot, idiot.

My eyes linger to one of the get-well cards, because I cannot handle thinking about his utter thickness.

_Harry Potter, get out of that hospital bed, you great idiot! Don't you dare think about staying in there for weeks, you giant terd, you aren't escaping classes that easily! No way, mate. Get the hell back into our dormitory. It's eerily silent without you and Ron bickering._

_All I have left is Neville, mate. Neville. Don't get me wrong, Nev's great, but really. Honestly. The poor boy can't even brush his bloody TEETH correctly. This is not a good sign for his sanity._

_-Seamus_

_P.S. And don't say, "You've got Dean." We're fighting. Well - we're fighting because Lavender and Parvati are fighting and since they're our girlfriends...you know._

"Can't think of anyone that I missed," he says thoughtfully. "So it must be another House. Ravenclaw? Hufflepuff? Oh - please don't say Slytherin."

I gape woefully at him, because there must be laws against this level of idiocy. There _must_ be. "What?" He snaps, slightly miffed at my incredulous stare.

"Okay, I'll give you a hint," I finally manage, exasperated. "His first name starts with an 'H' and ends with 'Arry', and his last name starts with 'Po' and ends with 'Tter'."

I'll bet you a galleon he doesn't get it. Just watch.

His eyes widen. "Harry Potter? As in - _the_ Harry Potter?"

I grin. It's funny, hearing him refer to himself the same way all those first years do in the hallway. "Why, yes._ That_ Harry Potter. Have you heard of him?" I ask wryly.

He chokes out, "Once or twice."

We sit in silence, and I feel myself starting to blush. Harry is staring out into space, this strange contortion on his face.

Oh, Merlin.

He's trying to figure out a way to let me down easy.

...Christ. (My apologies to all the Christians out there.)

How could I be so bloody _stupid?_ I just ruined everything, didn't I? Here I was, thinking that he would love me back, that he'd grin, that he'd hug me - hell, maybe kiss me - tell me he felt the same - _how could I be so stupid?_

I get up in a rush, trying to get out of the Hospital Wing as soon as possible.

"Ginny? Ginny! Where are you going?"

I wince, although he can't see it, and turn slowly, sighing. "Well, you didn't say anything, so I assumed you don't really care that I'm in love with you, and therefore I decided to leave and save the last, minute thread of my dignity. Why?"

He gapes.

"You think I - I _don't care_?" He asks, his jaw dropping. "Are you _mad_?"

I sigh glumly and nod. "I guess so, because only a madwoman would think that you would actually return - "

"Ginny," he interrupts, "I've been tripping over myself and putting my elbow in butter dishes around you for a week. Or have you not noticed?"

My eyes dart to his. The green irises are laughing. "Wait - what - what do you mean?"

He grins widely. "Oh, just that I have been obbsessing over you for weeks now."

Euphoria. Pure, utter euphoria.

"It's weird, but I just - started noticing the little things about you - like the way your hair catches the sunlight, and how your eyes widen when your surprised and a smile tugs at your lips and..." He blushes, turning the shade of his lips.

And that's perfectly all right, because I'm officially allowed to say that sort of thing.

I beam, although smirking at his discomfort. "And?"

"...And - well - I mean, obviously I - er - _liked_ those things..." He looks like he wants to dig a hole in the Earth and dissapear.

I laugh, in spite of myself, and throw myself on top of him. (In my defence, I'd been very upset, and he's just told me that he fancies me.)

(Only took him seven years, the git.)

(But I love him any way.)

"Oh, but you didn't _say_ anything and I thought Hermione must have been wrong about you liking me and - oh! It would have been horrible, to think that I'd broken it off with Dean for nothing." He sends me that lopsided, happy grin and I almost swoon.

Almost. Lavender hasn't finished teaching me how yet.

No, I won't elaborate. It's highly personal.

"Truly tragic," he comments, his face straight. I nod in a most somber manner.

"Broke the poor blokes heart, I imagine," I intone sadly.

He smirks and tightens his grip around my middle. "Well, too bad for him, you're mine now."

That's too much.

_Too_ much.

No longer can I refrain myself. No. Longer.

I capture his lips. Hungrily. Happily. Heaven. More complimentary words beginning with 'H'.

Honestly, I'm too happy right now to use my vocabulary. Go ask Hermione.

Although she'd _better_ not know what it's like to kiss Harry.

I love him more every moment.

And I also can't breath. With an inward sigh, I pull away slowly.

I roll to the side, secured by his side because of his arms, and suddenly a slow smirk begins to cross my face. Because, when I think about it, it _is_ pretty humorous. _Harry James Potter saved my life twice!_

_Once from an evil madman, and once....oh, once..._

_...Once from a bookshelf._

"You know, no one has ever jumped in front of a bookself for me before," I muse.

"I guess I'm the first bloke that's not family to love you enough to jump in front of something so terrible and risk my very life for you." He shrugs, his eyes looking at me in mock-sympathy.

I laugh and stick my tongue out at him. Frog head.

Lovely, beautiful, kind, caring, brave, I'll-save-you-from-a-killer-bookshelf, froghead.

I grin at him. "Would you jump in front of a rebel magnolia if I asked you?"

He smiles, and then nods solemnly. "If you asked me to, then yes. I would jump in front of a rebel magnolia."

"The one with lots of vines and petals falling off?"

"Yep."

I smirk and take his face in my hands.

How sweet.

He loves me. He really, really loves me!

In my mind, I do the hokie-pokie as I turn myself around. Because that's what one does when one is happy, you know.

"My hero," I breathe, before covering his lips with mine.

I feel him smile.

Dean was a sweetheart, really. In that shy, you're-my-first-girlfriend-that-isn't-Parvati sort of way. Harry's entirely different. Harry's shy in that I-really-do-care-about-you-and-am-kind-of-freaked-out-about-it sort of way.

I love his name. Harry. _Harry._

_Haaaaaaarry._

I sigh against his lips and make a mental note to get myself attacked by inanimate objects more often, if this is where it lands me.


End file.
